There he sat- a gray bearded
man, ash tray full
of dingy generic cancer
sticks, room dimly lit and glazed with a urinary odor
and yellow tinge.
Eyes- doused with love
and excitement.
Beard- clean, crisp,
and groomed.
Hands- swollen with fluid and shaky. Our habitual Sunday
meeting, card games, ice
tea, terrible treats
and connective conversation. The thief of time
stole the hours Mom and Dad called "Let's go..." A kiss, a hug,
a departing smile closing in on
the hallway, towards the door, a grand force
stopped me, a tear cleared
my eye I ran back, hugged and kissed
him as my eyes rained and I cried out
"I love you Pop!"
We left. Next weekend,
He died!